Never Doubt the Enemy still Lives
by Pocket-full-of-posies
Summary: What if things had been different, would Alanna have lived?
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they all belong to Tamora Pierce. To continue on that, I do not own the story either, unlike other fics, this fic goes back into the past and continues its way into the future. Meaning, it's the same plot and idea except told by a different POV, and with a few... variations.  
  
  
  
~Never Doubt the Enemy still Lives~  
  
  
  
The Duke of Conte smiled viciously to himself. Often he had miscalculated that boy Alan, never again. He swept down the long corridors leading to the library in the castle where is uncle reined over the land for now.  
  
When he had been young and traveling he had been a fool. A fool who had finally realized that there was only one thing that was meant for him, to be king.  
  
His plans had been perfect; he studied hard at his books and expanded his gift so that no one could surpass him. He then sent a sickness that was going to wipe out everything but the memory of the prince. He was full of triumph, certain that he only had to wait days and then he would receive the news that the young prince had been killed.  
  
He had heard the news, but news he in no manner wished to hear. News that told of only the weakening of the darling queen who had never been an obstacle in his plans, for though she was barely that old she was not able to bare young, the news that trouble him was that of the savior of the prince. He had been discouraged as well as puzzled and when the messenger arrived from the king and queen to ask for his the safety of his presence in court, his luggage had already been half packed. He was going to find this minor restraint that blocked his path on the way to becoming ruler of Tortall.  
  
And when he found this person who could wield so powerful a gift as his own, he had devised to destroy him with cruel brutality if it would be necessary in the future.  
  
Even if this barrier was only an eleven-year-old boy. 


	2. Arrival

Disclaimer: I did it in the first fic, I'm not doing it in the second.  
  
This is the second part of the fic of the ever-loved character, Duke Roger.  
  
Please R&R! (REVIEW)  
  
This time I will try to make it longer but please don't expect it to be like the book. That would be a bit boring since you would know everything that was going to happen.  
  
(Also I hate copying)  
  
  
  
~Never Doubt the Enemy still Lives~  
  
  
  
Leaving the inn a few days later the duke set off to his uncle's castle where his destiny awaited.  
  
He wasn't exactly worried about this opposing boy, but he had never heard of one who was as powerful as him. Not in the last thirty-eight years at least. It was more then surprising to find that gift in a young boy. But no matter, it would be quick work destroying the boy if the messenger had been correct. And in the mean time my reputation will follow in my path.  
  
Three weeks later he arrived at the city of Tortall. He had only stopped once or twice along the way to rest his horse, and the servant he had brought with him was quick on his feet and mute as a mouse, useful at that.  
  
Duke Roger noticed the cheers and flowers with great mirth, soon the cheers would not only be because he was coming to protect the king but because he *was* the king. The duke was wavingng from atop his ebony stallion when one figure caught his eye.  
  
The figure seemed to stand from the crowed, half hidden in the shadows. He leaned on a wall with the grace of a cat, ready to pounce and ready to fight. From his disorderly brown hair to the green eyes that thoughtfully watched the duke with a slight twinkle in them. Dignity rode on his shoulders as if on a king's, an air of survival rose from the very air he exhaled.  
  
For a moment his eyes met the eyes of the Duke of Conte. A pair of vigorous green eyes against frosty blue eyes; neither blinked. Nevertheless it was the duke who finally shifted his eyes onward from his horse. When he looked again, no one was there.  
  
He promptly forgot about the man when arriving at the palace where he was greeted joyously by his unsuspecting cousin and graciously by the royal couple. Yet again a strange person diverted him from the warm reception.  
  
His eyes were purple. A thing so big hidden by fiery red hair and a skinny face, it was most obvious to the duke that the boy disliked him immediately and might even loath him from the small frown that flickered on the scrawny face and the observance in the peculiar eyes.  
  
This was not a good start in Duke Roger's book, neither were the other small frowns that flashed on the friends of the boy. Nor was the quietness that probably came from distrust. Duke Roger almost frowned himself when Prince Jonathan introduced the boy as Alan of Trebond, the one person who had been able to save the prince from an "untimely" death.  
  
"Trebond?" Duke Roger put on a counterfeit smile. "I've heard of your father. He's a noted scholar, is he not?" Duke Roger was not as puzzled as his cousin when Alan responded with only a quiet "I believe so, your grace." (Sue me, This is the only time when I'm actually going to quote some thing from the book. Sometimes it will be the same and mostly it will be different.)  
  
Nor was Duke Roger surprised when admiration did not shine from Alan at the Duke's words. By this time Duke Roger knew this boy was going to be complicated. "So, you are the young boy who healed my cousin. I will be honored to train such a powerful gift."  
  
Alan stayed silent in perhaps what was hate but seemed to be bewilderment.  
  
He turned back to his perplexed cousin, "Well cousin, I should go and greet my uncle and his wife." They shook hands and as Duke Roger strode off to greet the royal couple, he could hear questioning remarks directed to Alan. Smiling sarcastically his sapphire eyes gleaming with savage conquest, he almost laughed to himself with satisfaction.  
  
The boy was a mere runt, with a twitch of magic Duke Roger could probably send Alan to the afterlife with never stirring but a finger. Ha! He had defeated great sorcerers, gods he could defeat if they only showed themselves to him. No. He frowned; he should not get to confidant. The boy would grow, as so would the others of the prince's followers.  
  
Duke Roger, the best of the sorcerers in the eastern lands and doubtlessly also in the southern lands, slowly smoothed the creases in one sleeve and then the other. To succeed I need to be quick but unnoticeable. The first to go would be that wordless boy Alan. Then one by one I'll slay each and every follower my uncle has who could have even a slight chance of weakening me. Then the king shall depart from the living, leaving me with the throne. This time he laughed. It was a vile sound, cruel and cold as a snake, but at the same time it was clever as a fox. Its owner was not to be reckoned with, as neither was the unmerciful heart that lay beneath the mask of kindness that showed not the true eternal being.  
  
That mask slid into place as he passed the guards leading to the throne room. He did not notice the extraordinary walls or the audience who stood to each side of the thrones. Duke Roger only saw the woman who sat weakly on one golden seat, her brother, Duke Gareth, standing regally besides her, and the man who held his body with nobility. Fit for the crown that rested on his brow and the majestic land he ruled.  
  
Duke Roger of Conte bowed lower than his pride would usually allow, but it was necessary he reminded himself.  
  
"Your majesty, King Roald, uncle. I have come to serve you in your realm." Duke Roger rose gracefully to his feet.  
  
"Thank you Duke Roger of Conte. I hope that you will be staying with us for some time and until you take your leave, please enjoy your stay here as part of the royal family." King Roald's gesture included himself, his queen, and the queen's brother.  
  
"Thank you." Duke Roger bowed again and King Roald stood. The old king seemed to throw off the burdens of court etiquette and hugged his young nephew. The queen embraced Duke Roger also. Duke Gareth shook his hand and the four began to walk to the banquet room where they sat down to feast on a delicious meal of venison shot in the royal woods.  
  
"How has your travel been going Duke Roger?" The king's eyes were full of interest and pride for his nephew.  
  
"Well uncle. I have picked up a few new useful spells, but I wish I could have been here when the sickness came." Roger wasn't lying, yet neither was he saying the whole truth.  
  
Roald sighed heavily. "As do I Roger."  
  
"Have you decided to stay long with us Roger? It is about time you settle down and maybe even find yourself a wife." The queen sounded hopeful.  
  
"I'm not sure at this time. But I'm sure I will not be getting married." Duke Roger smiled secretly, inviting them to ask why.  
  
King Roald took the bait. "Why not Roger? Its not that no lady would love to have you as a husband."  
  
"I'm too old to worry about finding myself the perfect wife and besides," Duke Roger smile became broader. "No lady in her right mind could understand the importance in my work."  
  
"I do doubt that Roger, but it's your decision." For the rest of the meal Duke Roger steered the conversation away from his personal life and tried to keep it to the gifted ones he was going to teach. He was very interested in Alan.  
  
"Alan? Duke Gareth can tell you more about him then I can." The king turned to his wife's brother.  
  
Duke Gareth cleared his throat, "Alan of Trebond has a twin brother named Thom who is studying to become a sorcerer. His mother died when Alan was born and his father has not come to court since." Gareth looked questioning at Duke Roger. "Anything else you would like to know? You probably know that Alan has a very powerful gift, healing the Sweating Sickness when other trained healers could not."  
  
"Not at this moment, thank you Duke Gareth." Duke Roger turned back to the king.  
  
An hour later Duke Roger asked to be excused from the king's presence and swiftly walked to his chambers. After looking them over to his satisfaction he began to unpack.  
  
Though usually he would command the servants to do the packing and unpacking, on this he had brought a few valuable things that he did not want anyone else to see.  
  
These many things he arranged in the other room that was connected by a door to his. The very first thing he did was to enchant a lock and he clipped it on the doorknob. He pulled out a bag he had kept secret on the trip to Tortall. In it were the various things he needed to enhance certain spells, the first thing he pulled from it was a crystal glass mirror. The rim of the mirror was decorated with carvings of the afterlife. On the top showed the god of death, on the bottom showed a helpless soul.  
  
Duke Roger cackled viciously, his laughter magnified by the enclosed space. His heartless eyes finally relieved what had been submerged as he watched three boys reflecting in the mirror. One had chestnut hair and eyes; his voice lined with humor. The second had hair of nightfall his eyes blue as the deepest sea in the realm of the gods, his face full of confidence. The last was the one that Duke Roger would always be drawn to first, his hair seemed to be in flames his eyes an attentive purple. Duke Roger stopped laughing and stared into the glass. He could wait. He'd been waiting for years he would wait a little longer. But someday he would where the crown and that would be the day he proclaimed himself the best. 


End file.
